


Vortex

by MercuryPilgrim



Series: For the Sky [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Dubious reality, Having a spirit in your head is terrible, Mental Instability, Valkorion is awful, Ven is really not okay, Ven'fir hates him, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryPilgrim/pseuds/MercuryPilgrim
Summary: Valkorion will not leave Ven’fir alone.
Series: For the Sky [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244819
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Vortex

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post!
> 
> https://bunny-loverxiv.tumblr.com/post/621562053071683584/how-does-the-commander-shower-with-valkorian-in

It’s nice, really.

The hot water is streaming down his skin and washing away the efforts of the day, soothing his nerves.

He lets the spray thunder down on him, feeling the almost painful prickles where the steaming water hits him. The pressure is phenomenal, and he sort of wants to know who to thank for that. It’s the kind of thing Lana would be responsible for.

He’s finished with his showering routine and takes some time to simply… be.

The rhythmic drone of the water is calming.

Ven’fir closes his eyes to the bright lights of his ‘fresher, breathing in the scent of cleanness and soap.

Something nudges his mind.

He pushes it away.

It nudges harder, insistent.

With a spike of anger that shreds his pleasant mood, he doesn’t push so much as _shove_.

“You are arrogant.”

He opens his eyes, the sound of the voice sending a shiver down his spine even as his belly fills with liquid fury.

“Get out.”

Valkorion merely regards him in that measured way that Ven’fir hates.

“I did not take you for the shy sort.” The Emperor murmurs, and Ven’fir is in no mood to banter with him.

“I’m not.” He grunts back, purposefully not covering up as he stands naked under the spray. “I don’t like talking to you when I’ve got clothes on, either.”

But he does feel vulnerable.

He’s alone.

No weapons.

No armour.

No one to call for help.

“You can’t keep me out.” Valkorion states, fixing those burnt orange eyes on him. Ven’fir meets his gazer with his own amber one, challenging. “You’re being a child about this.”

Ven’fir sneers at him.

“I’m a child? You’re the one who’s pulling my pigtails to make me notice you.”

He feels a pressure on his mind, and it _hurts._

“Stop that.” He manages, and his vision swims. Everything lurches to one side and he leans against the wall of the shower to stay upright.

Valkorion is watching him with dispassion, and Ven’fir has never despised anyone more.

Even Baras had paled in comparison to this _hatred._

It burns in his veins, made his head swim and his teeth ache.

Another wave of nausea sends him reeling, and he lashes out without thinking about it.

“ _Stop it.”_ He snarls, and he barely notes that his words have the Force behind them. A mirror cracks and he topples sideways to fall to his knees in the shower, water beating down on his head.

It feels like his head is being squeezed in a vice.

He hears a pained, animalistic noise and realises with a start that it was _him_.

It’s humiliating.

Painful.

_Terrifying_.

He feels a hand on his chin, and he tries to snatch himself away, but it tightens its grip on him and he can’t move for the pain in his head.

He looks up, and he feels tears run down his cheeks and blend with the water.

It _hurts._

Valkorion is so close that they’re almost nose to nose.

The Emperor is standing in the spray and it’s hitting him, but he’s not wet at all. The water simply seems to slide off him.

His orange eyes are intense and cold, his mouth pulled into something ugly.

Ven’fir can feel the water beating down on his back and making it numb, making his hair stick to his forehead and shoulders.

“You will _submit._ ”

That liquid voice is poured into his ear, the sound of it crawling into his head and taking refuge there amongst the pain.

The fingers on his face are digging into his skin like talons, and his vision fades in and out, the lights pulsing and piercing.

He shivers, wanting nothing more than to _not be here._

He wants to shout, to snarl and spit and claw his way out and rage against this spirit that thought he could control _him._

But he can’t.

All he can do is huddle on the tiles, head forced up and hoping Valkorion can feel the hatred aimed his way.

He would tear him apart.

He wants to break him so utterly that it would be a mercy to finally consign him to the Force.

He feels himself shake, and all he can see is orange eyes.

“And to think, you were once my Wrath.” Valkorion mocks, voice pitched low and intimate. He feels it crawl over his skin. “Pathetic.”

Ven’fir grasps the Force and it slips from between his fingers again like sand.

Valkorion grips tighter, and he makes a sound like a whimper.

His limbs feel like lead.

His head is wadded with cotton wool dipped in poison.

He manages to raise his arms to grip the arm of the hand that is touching him, and Valkorion looks like he wants to cut them off.

“How the mighty have _fallen_.” The spirit croons into his ear.

Ven’fir’s grasping fingers touch an eddy of the Force with his last reserve of concentration, and _tugs_.

He’s dimply aware of Valkorion’s brow furrowing before his hands start to _smoke_ and he lets go with suddenness to send Ven’fir crumpling, feeling the water thunder down on him.

The spirit looks at his hands, blackened and burned and ruined. He looks like he’s mildly interested, but his mouth is pulled into a grim, cruel line.

He looks to Ven’fir, who does all he can to stop himself shaking without success.

Ven’fir glances up to meet his eyes, hoping the Emperor can read his fury as well as it burned his hands.

“ _Fuck you_.” He manages to gasp, every syllable agony. He punctuates his words with a spike of power, hissing and spitting like a cornered cat.

The pressure in his head spikes and he screams before Valkorion is suddenly gone and he’s left with a steamy bathroom, a broken mirror, and a deep feeling of _violation._

He stays there for more minutes than he knows, letting the water thunder around him.

The pressure in his head subsides with Valkorion’s departure back into his mind, and eventually he can stand.

His legs shake and his heart is beating its way out of his chest. His hands tremor, and his breathing won’t return to normal. He’s sucking in steamy air, his breaths shallow and erratic.

Slowly, he steps out of the shower and turns off the water, emotions running through him faster than he can process.

He looks into the cracked mirror, seeing himself looking back.

His eyes are bleeding crimson.

A shape flickers behind him, indistinct and almost formless.

A phantom touch brushes over his shoulder, and he wants to smack it away. His skin _crawls_.

It’s _not real._

It isn’t.

It’s real enough.

He swallows and grabs a towel, pretending the wetness on his cheeks is just water.

He needs to go somewhere where he isn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Ven. :(


End file.
